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here?”
    â€œNo, we need him to get us out,” Ruby explained. “This guy is also our fallback escape route so this is money well spent, just in case things go badly in India.”
    â€œMakes sense.”
    When Chanderan returned, it took another twenty minutes to seal the deal. Ruby did not bother to negotiate on the price, even though she knew he was charging way too much for stuff that he’d never be able to sell for years.
    â€œBut, for that price,” Ruby said flatly, making it clear that her demand was nonnegotiable, “you will need to deliver our materials to India and also organize a boat for us.” Her guess had been right: Chanderan needed the business; he agreed without a murmur.
    With everything going according to plan, Ruby should have slept well that night. But she didn’t. With sleep came the recurring dream.
    Once again that faceless, formless man appeared, urging her on, pleading to her. She was feeling nauseated when she jolted awake the sixth or seventh time. Gulping down a glass of tepid water, she reached inside and drew on her inner resources, the way they’d taught her during training. However, it was a while before her calm returned, bringing with it a renewed sense of purpose.
    When she finally fell asleep, it was a deep, dreamless sleep.
    *   *   *
    By time Ravinder finished checking the games’ village security and returned home, it was almost eleven. The road leading up to his house was in near darkness; the power supply had failed again.
    Ravinder noted the two additional security guards, one patrolling along the boundary wall and the other backing up the gate guard. They seemed alert; Mohite had gotten this one right.
    First thing tomorrow I must caution Simran and Jasmine to be extra careful till those Jaish terrorists have been captured, Ravinder reminded himself as he let himself into the almost dark house. He’d already called Simran earlier that evening and knew she wouldn’t be waiting up for him.

 
    DAY TWO
    Ruby awoke feeling rested. The bright Sri Lankan sun, streaming in through the thin curtains, warmed her face. Somewhere in the night her mind had scaled a plateau. She felt alive again. Her life had purpose. She felt a spring in her step when she exited the seedy hotel room.
    Mark took note of her buoyancy. He did not say a word, but he was relieved. Her brooding silences were new to him; they had begun to worry him.
    After a hurried breakfast, they moved on. Chanderan sat toadlike in the front passenger seat. Now upbeat and perked up, Ruby could not keep still. She kept up a barrage of questions, querying everything they drove past.
    But that did little to dispel the quiet tension that rode with them.
    *   *   *
    Simran was in the living room when Ravinder came down. The Gill family lived in a two-level government bungalow on Satya Marg, allocated to him by virtue of his designation as ATTF chief. Though they could have stayed in their family-owned farmhouse at Chhatarpur, a huge eight-bedroom place with swimming pool, tennis court, and gym, Ravinder preferred it here; it was a much easier commute and it relieved him from having to go around explaining to everyone how he, a cop, could afford such an extravagant home.
    On one wall of the rectangular living room there was a bright, cheerful painting of a young boy running with a kite; the painter had caught the boy’s excitement. Contrasting with it was a somber, much darker mountainscape on the opposite wall, with small houses caught in the dying rays of the sun. Both paintings were large and added vibrancy to the room. On a third wall was an array of photographs: ancestors in their regal finery; the large family home in Patiala; men in uniform, with the family crest clearly visible. Ravinder referred to this as the family’s vanity wall; a reminder of their royal legacy. A massive Persian carpet, two big, well-polished brass lamps, one